Best Served Cold
by Silent Nacht
Summary: Even England doesn't like salt that much, which is something like America's point. Canada is unwilling on all fronts.


Details/Notes: I will never get the image out of my mind of America completely terrorising England as a kid, with Canada was his somewhat unwilling, definitely passive-aggressive cohort. I'm not the best at thinking up interesting shenanigans, so I went with an old standby. Hopefully this is at least somewhat enjoyable, and IC.

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Best Served Cold:

Even England doesn't like salt _that_ much, which is something like America's point.

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"I am so bored."

He looked over at where his brother was sitting with his crossed legs propped up on England's desk, bare heels leaving smudges on various financial reports.

He had learned to fear the tone that America was using, a blend of exasperation, petulance, and most of all, expectation, that was indicative of bad things to come.

"It's almost bedtime," Canada reasoned, "You'll be less bored in the morning."

"Don't stop me from being bored now."

"_Al_."

"Let's do something fun!" His brother bounded up from his chair, continuing, "Come on, Matt! We never do anything fun anymore."

"We have responsibilities, eh," Canada reminded him, but he couldn't stop a slight note of nostalgia to invade his voice at America's reminder. He did kind of miss the days before France and then England had taken him in, when he and America spent day after day running barefoot through field and forest.

America rolled his eyes at Canada's words, never being one to care about the intricacies of government. "You said yourself it's almost bedtime. We don't have anything to do right _now_."

"Arthur won't like it."

"Yeah, so?" Canada opened his mouth to reply, but America cut him off with a pointed, "Arthur wouldn't like you doing your lessons in French, but you don't see _me_ telling him about _that_, do you?"

Canada thought about it for a moment, waiting for his desire to strangle his brother to somewhat pass, before snapping, "That's none of your business."

America smiled at him.

Canada's shoulders slumped, and he tucked his bangs back behind his ears before turning his full attention to his brother, asking, "What are you planning?"

"Well," America said in that dramatic way he had started favouring, "You know how Arthur likes salt in _everything_?"

"You do realise we have to eat his food too, eh?"

"We're not going to fuck with the food, like Arthur needs the help, no, Matt, _no_. Go get Arthur's toothbrush." America gave him a startling grin that made him want to wince.

"_Al_."

"Go on," America encouraged, giving him a shove in the direction of England's room.

"Why don't you do it?" he asked with a glare, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. America just rolled his eyes at him. Canada shoved him back.

"Oh, come off it. We both know I'm the only one who can see over the counter."

America shoved him again, harder.

Canada flushed pink and resisted the urge to pout.

His brother made an obnoxious shooing gesture, and then turned in the direction of the kitchen and ran off, his bare feet slapping at on the wood floor.

Canada made a face at his back, and began to creep toward England's room.

If he backed out he knew he would never live it down, and his brother would go through with his threat to tell England about his French books, and then they would be confiscated.

Canada worried his lip, and continued on his way.

Even when England wasn't at home his rooms still felt very large and very watched to Canada, like the nation was about to pop out from behind a bed post and start yelling at him.

He didn't dare to breathe until he had nicked the toothbrush from England's dressing table, and had hightailed it back out into the hallway.

He was so focused that he barely missed running into America.

"Matt!" America shouted, making Canada wince, "Did you get it?"

"Yes," Canada whispered, and held out the toothbrush like the peace offering it was. America snatched it from his fingers immediately, and brought the tin of salt out from behind his back. Canada watched in horrified fascination as America jammed the toothbrush in his mouth and drooled on it. "Al, that is _disgusting_."

"If's naw 'n _'or_ mouf," America snapped, though his glare was more humorous than intimidating.

Canada snickered. "Doesn't this mean you and Arthur have kissed?"

America practically tore the toothbrush out of his mouth, gagging. "Ew, shut up, Matt!"

"Arthur and Alfred, sitting in a tree, K - I - S - S - I -N - G," Canada chanted under his breath as America turned bright red, blush spilling across his cheeks and down his neck.

"Shut up!" he shouted, and Canada wisely bit his tongue when he noticed his brother's murderous expression. "Just for that, you're putting this back."

Canada really did pout this time.

America muttered something obscene, and focused on dunking England's toothbrush into the salt, rubbing it into the hairs before carefully cleaning the evidence away from the handle.

"Go put it back," America ordered, and Canada followed with only the barest hint of open resentment.

As soon as the artefact was replaced, Canada hurried back into the study along with his brother, only a few minutes before England came in talking about this and that and local government never living up to the King's divine word.

Canada kept his mind firmly fixed on what his mentor was saying, agreeing with him in all the right places. America merely rolled his eyes again and again, occasionally gagging subtly when England mentioned his sovereign.

Recently, America had been behaving even more insufferably than usual, challenging England at every turn, and for a brief moment Canada felt overwhelmingly guilty for aiding his brother, no matter how stupid the prank.

But it _was_ very stupid, harmless, even, and Canada wouldn't rat out him out.

He sighed to himself, and began to mentally prepare himself for all the yelling that would start up when England discovered their mischief.

Which would be after dinner.

Canada's stomach clenched at the thought, and wondered for a brief moment if America didn't have the right idea.

End.

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End Notes: Bad? Good? Mediocre? Please take a few seconds to tell me. Every review is loved and appreciated equally. Thank you, everyone, for bothering to red.


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